Accident

An accident never comes. It happens. A fraction of a second, a wrong step, a brief moment of inattention — and suddenly everything is different. The day that began like any other has a crack in it. You are lying on the ground, sitting in the car with trembling hands, staring at a wound that was not there moments ago. Time stretches. And something in you knows: this was not a coincidence.

Medically considered, an accident is a chain of circumstances. Physics, reaction time, material fatigue, bad luck. This view is accurate — and it does not reach far enough. Because whoever looks back honestly at the moments before the impact finds there almost always an inner landscape that was already out of balance. A restlessness. An absence. An inner fog that had already veiled the senses before the outside followed suit.